Tuli felt relief in her chest, she'd thought they were in trouble, but the arrival of Wvota had saved them. She still faulted herself, berating herself for her panicked shot that had missed all the goblins horribly. However with the arrival of the Iron-Tusk, and some good shooting by Fredwick and Thebor, the dwarf soldier he'd rescued, the four goblins that had been chasing them were quickly killed or scattered. She turned to Leslie, and her little one, Alexander, whom she'd had hiding behind a large boulder for the moment, nodding to them. "Its safe now, the goblins are gone." she told them both with a smile, feeling her own fear drain away as well. Fredwick and Thebor quickly rejoined her, the soldier immediately moving to the three civilians, insuring they were all uninjured from their escape, despite the fact that the dwarf had an ugly gash of his own on his left shoulder. Tuli moved to get his attention, but Fredwick stopped her, grabbing her arm.

      "Leave him." the halfman told her. "That gash might look ugly, and it is long, but shallow. Leave him some bandage, maybe a bit of needle and thread and something to clean it with. He can dress his own wound." Fredwick gestured to Wvota, the boar snorting and pawing the ground, glancing down towards the goblin camp, quiet now as it was with no signs of movement, and then back to Tuli. "She's agitated. I think your skills might be more necessary down there. Last I saw of them both, they were both squaring off against the shaman and the raid leader respectively. I know not how they fared."

      Tuli needed no further prodding. She moved swiftly to Thebor, giving him specific instructions of application and one of her various salves, as well as a bit of thread, a needle and some clean linen bandage. She moved to Fredwick "You two keep your eyes open, some of them ran off from the camp. Likely not enough to do much of anything but I do not wish Leslie and Alexander to come to any harm." she instructed, as she double checked her pack, quickly taking stock of her medical supplies. Making due with what she could find as they'd traveled meant she was running a bit short now on some things she would rather have had more of, however such feelings were not helpful. She'd just have to adapt her approach based on the injuries they had. Without further ceremony or circumstance, she took off over the hillock and down towards the encampment as fast as her gnome stature would allow, calling ahead to Wvota. "Find them and stand by them, I will be there in but a few moments!" The boar did not audibly respond, but Tuli had seen enough of the creature's behavior to know there was a deeper intelligence within the creature than one might first expect and had every faith it had understood the instruction.

     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Fenna glanced up, hearing the snorting and pawing, and despite her fatigue and soreness, she smiled, speaking softly. "Wvota, ya did well, pleases me ta see yer unharmed. Seems I misplaced me 'ammer, any chance ye nae where it ended up girl?" The boar seemed to ignore that, gently nuzzling both Fenna and Friya's unconscious form with obvious concern, sniffing them both. Fenna chuckled, or tried to though it only came out as a wheeze and a string of breathless curses from the pain in her torso. "Bastard be damned ribs, ach , ye can't even chuckle wit'out pain!" she growled, trying to shoo off the boar. "We'll be alright, just go find me 'ammer would ye?"

      A familiar voice responded to that, for the briefest moment confusing Fenna. "I'm here now Wvota, you can do as she says, leave me to my work. Tuli stepped out from behind the boar then, and shook her head at Fenna. "So much for not playing the hero, what got into the pair of you?" she inquired, moving closer and taking a knee, her bag beside her. She opened it and began rummaging through it, pulling out a pair of gloves and a silk blanket of sorts, laying it out then soaking it with some strong smelling alcohol, before laying out a bunch of tools and various little vials and fluids and salves, as well as two partial rolls of linen bandages.

      As Wvota moved off, Fenna half smiled, and choked back more laughter. "Ach nae a time for humor lass, bastard broke at least one or two o' me ribs. Breathing is uncomfortable but laughin' o' any kind is pure agony. 'owever I'm just bloody exhausted, an' need a moment ta catch me breath. Focus on Friya, she's in rough shape. Once I've got me wind back, I'll get somethin ta pry out these dents in me armor, we'll get me stripped an' then ye can see if'n ye need ta work on me."

       Tuli took stock of Friya, noting her face and shoulder, and wincing noticeably as she saw the bit of bone sticking out from the shoulder blade. "You are not wrong. Keep hold of her for a moment." Tuli instructed, as she rummaged through her pack and found the second large silk blanket she kept tightly rolled and bound in the bottom. Opening it up, she carefully spread it out, and similarly soaked it down with the brutally strong clear liqueur, draining the last of that vial, though thankfully she did have one more. Once this was done, she moved to Friya's ankles. "I know your winded and this is likely really going to hurt with broken ribs, but we need to get her laid flat on this, its the closest I can get to a sterile surface. I've got the necessary salves and potions in combination to feed her to hopefully avoid infection, but I am going to have to operate right here. Thankfully she's already busted open, but it will still be an involved process to say the least. I'll likely need to borrow your own or Wvota's strength as well, though it will be a delicate matter when I'm ready to set the collarbone. I won't be strong enough to force it back into line myself."

     Fenna nodded, and took careful grip of Friya, trying her damnedest not to shift the magister's injured shoulder. The pair maneuvered her onto the silk sheet, and Fenna lightly kissed her left cheek. "Yer gonna be okay Friya, ye 'ear me. Yer goin' ta be alright."

      Tuli got to work immediately, focusing first on the face burn, knowing such things could get infected easily. First she carefully got some white poppy extract into Friya, very carefully helping the now semi-conscious magister sip the stuff. Once this had put her well and truly into a state of unconsciousness, Tuli began. With precision and careful skill she stripped what flesh she had to, the dead and obviously unrecoverable layers of skin from the burns, thankful that they only seemed a layer or two deep. Much worse this would not be a field possible procedure. Immediately however, Tuli realized that the damage to Friya's eye might be permanent. She did what she could, carefully maneuvering the woman's head to allow her to try and flush the eye with water, but it had been some time, minutes at least, since the corrosive substance, presumably, had gotten in her eye.

      Tuli turned to Fenna, whom was sitting up now, her breath recovered, and with a small prying tool of sorts from one of the many pouches upon Wvota's tack, she was carefully trying to pry and pop out the denting in her armor. "So where did these burns come from, what caused them?" Tuli asked, continuing to work as Fenna told her what Friya had said about a mutation and corrosive blood. "Alright well it wasn't fire, that isn't ideal, it means the liquid causing this has had time to do a lot of damage. With luck she might not be blind, but there will be permanent aspects to the damage to her eye, regardless of my best efforts."

      Fenna thought about saying something in protest for but a moment, but decided against it, knowing it was best to let Tuli focus on the task at hand, as the gnome finished her sixth flushing of Friya's right eye. She began carefully laying linen bandages with a variety of ground up herbal powders and pastes over the burns on that side of her face. Once done and satisfied, she moved her focus to Friya's shoulder.

      It was almost two hours later that Tuli finished wrapping Fenna's dislocated wrist with a splint, after forcing it back into the socket, much to the dwarf's discomfort, and she fell back on her bottom sighing with relief as she looked up to the sky. Friya's shoulder had been a proper challenge, but thankfully the break had been clean, not splintered, so once they'd managed to get the bone back in line and pinned, the rest had been easy enough, just time consuming. It was well past mid-day now and the idea of travel of any kind seemed like a task to much, frankly. Fenna seemed to almost read her mind, speaking what she was thinking. "Ach I nae love the idea, but mayhaps would be best if'n we borrowed what's left o' this wee campsite. Burn t'e damned goblin bodies, o' course, an' get some rest. Friya will wake in the mornin' and her legs nae broken, even if'n she needs ta wear a sling. We likely be well served ta camp 'ere for afternoon an' the night, get our bearin's with t'e help o' t'at soldier, an' make for nearest settlement or fort we can in t'e mornin'."

       "I would be in agreement, yes. Do you want me to go and collect Fredwick and the the rest?" Tuli asked.

      "Aye, if'n ye nae mind. Wvota be 'ere, she'll keep eye on us both and I nae worried 'bout any more trouble from goblins this day. Most o' 'em be dead 'ere and with the death o' that 'un," Fenna stated, pointing towards the larger hobgoblins broken body, "I nae expect any o' the wee 'uns that ran off will be back fer more." Fenna rose then, moving to Wvota's side and with some effort due to her restricted wrist, got free her own thicker wool and sealskin blanket. Carefully she spread it over Friya, sealskin side down, and then she turned to Wvota. "Whilst yerself gets Fredwick an' the rest, me and Wvota will start draggin' these greenskins inta that fire pit and get ta work putting torch ta the bodies. After t'at incident with the ghoul worg, I nae be wantin' ta take any chances."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Resting the night proved beneficial to the companions, and after some discussion with Thebor to get the lay of the land, they learned that they were but a half day east of a modest garrison town, Fort Spearhead, and so it was decided they would make for it. The half day journey took a bit longer with Friya and Fenna's conditions, both needing extra rests and bandages changed, and both in notable discomfort. However by late afternoon they were in sight of Pyr's Run, the river who's valley this garrison was located in. Fort Spearhead came into view shortly after. The garrison town likely housed only around two thousand people in total, with about five hundred of those being military members and much of the rest being their families. All told there were likely some two thirds of the town that worked directly with the military, be it part of the River Watch, or soldiers of one type or another assigned to the garrison. Everyone else living here basically had moved and settled here with intention to capitalize on the steady needs of such a garrison and its manpower. The garrison town was actually split into two smaller walled settlements, tied together by the heavily fortified bridge that crossed over the two harbors, at this narrow part of Pyr's Run. Though no road had been fully cleared on the eastern bank yet, one was planned and such work had been well started this summer, to connect to the Spruce-Stone Byway, the intention likely to follow Pyr's Run up to Spruce Point to the north.

      Thebor explained all this as he guided them all through the hilly woodlands until they were out from them near the river itself, and could see the town's walls of stone and timber properly. Fenna smiled through her discomfort in the saddle upon seeing the proper fortifications and the notable figures lining the walls, patrolling. She counted at least a dozen, likely more. She could not see clearly whether any proper engines of war such as cannon or ballista were atop the walls on this side of the river, but she had no doubt the actual fort itself, which was on the western bank, would be doubly fortified and equipped with at least two or three such tools atop its fortifications. Fenna heeled Wvota forward a bit, though the bumping of riding at anything over a walking pace was desperately uncomfortable with her ribs and wrist, to get level with Thebor, whom had been at the head of the group, allowing Friya and Fenna to take there time. "We nae any coin, or very little Thebor, so I hope ye nary bringin' us somewhere t'at we won't 'ave a place ta rest our heads." she told him, flashing him a small grin.

      Thebor peeled his eyes from the gates and the walls, and she could see the emotion in her fellow dwarf, the relief, the disbelief. He'd been held prisoner for a few days at least, and had likely resigned himself to his eventual fate. "Ach, nae worry, I'm sure ye'll get a wee reward from Captain Orenmac once ye sees 'im, if yer up for it. Normally I'd nary think ta bother the captain so late in the day, but given the information you'll be bringin' 'im in regards ta what ye've told me of why ye was out there tracking them goblins, well tis my thought we should bother t'e ol' greybeard." Thebor chuckled as he once again glanced at Fenna, taking her in up and down. Fenna knew what he was eyeing, the various bits of her garb, the iconography, the pendant, the way her shield looked. "After all, I nae think he be one ta turn away a Templar of Kartheart in need o' a safe place ta seek refuge for a night."

      "True 'nough, I'm still nae ta this authority thing, relatively speakin'. I oft forget there are a lot o' things me official title would allow me ta do." Fenna replied. "Well, get us in ta town and lead the way, Thebor."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      The grizzled dwarf, in full dress uniform, leaned back in his chair behind his desk. He leaned forward again after a few moments of silence, staring at the five individuals in his office. "Thebor." he spoke, as he calmly packed his pipe with some vhar-zi root.

      "Aye, Captain." the younger soldier responded, saluting, waiting respectfully.

      "Ach, at ease lad, yer dismissed, ye been through 'ell and back. Only survivor o' a patrol wiped out. Get off t'e fort, get 'ome ta yer wife an' yer boys. I got ol' Durin out there ta accompany ye so she nary think it be some fool tryin' ta break in. She's been preparin' ta 'ear the worst, given yer patrol was missing for almost a week nae. I nae want ta see 'ide or 'air of ye for at least two weeks, ye understand me. Ye'll be takin' paid leave, ye earned it."

     Not needing to be told twice, Thebor quickly excused himself, and Captain Orenmac turned his attention to the other four of them. "As ta ye lot. Ye'll take our hospitality for the night, and on the morrow I'll get ye set up wit' room and board at the Pyrside Inn. Annabelle owes t'e garrison a favor anyway. Ye two in particular," he said, pointing to Fenna and Friya, "seem ta 'ave taken a bit o' punishment ta pull our lad out o' danger by 'is short 'airs. Fer that ye 'ave me gratitude. It pleases me ta 'ear ye gave the rest a proper burial, but it pleases me a lot less ta 'ear the tale ye've woven me. It feels like there be somethin' yer nae tellin' me."

      Fenna tensed here, not sure where the old captain was going. She'd been careful with the story she'd told in her capacity, choosing tact over force, figuring dancing around Tuli's....questionable background and involvement in the situation with the Void-Stone was probably best fibbed off as intelligence gathered from an undisclosed source near Vorgi. Fenna was not sure what to do with his tone, however Friya, who was always a good deal bolder than Fenna when wielding her authority and title, stepped in here. "Ach, nae 'old on a second Captain. Our story as ye put it ain't any o' yer concern. Yerself 'as 'nough ta worry about with finding the warrens o' this damned tribe, afore any more be touched by Void powers by usin' the cursed stuff. Fine their warrens, an' then march on 'em and purge 'em. Minin' an' attemptin' ta distribute this stuff? T'at be business of the Church, law enforcement, and the Magisterium. Nary any business o' yers, so if'n we nae tellin' ye somethin', then ye clearly nae need ta know it." she told the dwarven captain politely but very firmly.

      Fenna followed Friya's lead, stepping up to the captain's desk. "Aye, these two are workin' with us, she's nary just a medic she's a chemist, useful in findin' traces o' the foul stuff, will be useful when we gets back up to Vorgistal to grab Vorgi." She told Orenmac, pointing at Tuli. Then, pointing at Fredwick, still in dwarven, which they'd been speaking the whole time, "Then t'is one is our connection to our source. Fredwick 'ere approached us last time we were in Vorgistal, let us know t'at he had information from someone willin' ta turn on Vorgi, an' t'at once we dealt with t'e delivery I told ye 'bout t'at we grabbed up at Spruce Point. So long as we did t'at as a show o' trust, provin' this source be willin' ta give good information. So they both are wit' us an' just as much a part o' it as we are. So let it be."

      For a moment it did seem the ornery old captain wasn't going to submit to their authority, however he nodded curtly. Fenna stifled it swiftly, almost audibly sighing with relief. "Good. Nae we needs at least a few days, likely a couple weeks. We'll happily pay fer our own lodgings o' course after acceptin' yer hospitality tonight. Then dependin' on the weather, once myself and Friya 'ere feeling rested an' recovered, we'll likely make for Vorgistal. Be a tough journey, likely the snows will have started by t'en, but we'll make it. Nae, we'd really like ta get on wit' gettin' settled for the night and gettin' some rest, so if ye nae mind?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Fenna sat by the fireplace, roaring as it was, in the commons, as one of the Annabelle's staff, an elven lad likely not quite past his first century, brought her out a hearty bowl of mutton and carrot stew, with half a loaf of garlic and onion loaf. With it he brought her a pint of amber, setting both on the stand beside the fireplace. Fenna was pleased for the hot stew, holding the bowl in her hands. She'd been out riding with Wvota all morning, going ranging for her and her friends, well trying to. It was their third day in Fort Spearpoint and tonight would be their third night, however they'd felt ready to leave this morning. But naturally Suranth itself had other plans. After they'd all fallen asleep last night, a Nor'Westor had rolled in. Enough snow had fallen overnight to half bury parts of town, and with the winds and sudden changes to them at different points of the storm, every gate out of the fort was snowed in, buried under some ten to fifteen feet of the stuff. It would be another day perhaps, before the gates of the town were dug out and able to be opened at all.

       Fenna's mind wandered to the last two days and nights. She'd shared a room with Friya, both comfortable with the idea, and both needing to have eyes kept on them anyway, so choosing to do so for each other. She remembered the evening keenly, the pair of them laughing and joking, still sore, but feeling capable of travel at the very least, and sharing a dram of fine whiskey. They'd been reminiscing about the years they'd known each other, they'd talked through the last few weeks, and been all smiles and happiness.

      However then Friya had kissed her. Dead on the lips, she had caught her fully off guard. Fenna hadn't wanted to stop, but once she realized what was happening beyond her visceral enjoyment of the moment, beyond her instincts and emotions, she'd pushed Friya away, shocked. "Ach, t'e 'ells ye doin' lass!?" She snarled, maybe a bit harsher than intended.

      To her credit, Friya hadn't taken the edge in Fenna's voice personally. "What am I doin'? I thought that obvious. I've had feelin's for ye, been harborin' 'em for months at least. Maybe longer, an' ye 'ears 'ow I talks to ye, an' I've seen an' 'eard 'ow ye talks to me. I figured someone 'ad ta make the first move." Friya had responded, respectfully not moving closer, but also keeping within arm's reach for the moment, clearly confused by the response she'd received.

       Fenna hadn't spent today riding for nothing. She'd done it to think. To think deeply, about the blurring lines between duty and love, logic and emotion, Templar and Magister. It was not up for debate, of course, that the feelings were reciprocated, and Fenna had clarified as much immediately, which made the whole thing more confusing. She cared about the why, and wanted Friya to know how she felt. That just seemed cruel, yet that was exactly what she'd done. "Ach we cannae be doin' t'at!" She'd exclaimed, "Ye nae see it? I'm a Templar an' ye be a Magister. We travel together an' end up wit' our lives on the line together. There may come a day one day that ye lose control an' I 'ave ta execute ye! Such would be me duty an' oathbound task!"

       Friya, quite logically, as she always was, had been quick off the mark, her biting and sarcastic tone a bit like a slap in the face to Fenna's own view of that scenario. "Aye, an' we may freeze ta death in a Nor'Westor. Or ye may take a spear ta the belly an' nae recover from it. If'n that scenario were ta come ta pass, I'm already gone. I'd be dead. Ye'd nae be killin' me. Just some fell beast usin' me body without me consent. I'd hope ye have nary a reservation about such a deed. Or does the idea it'd be wearin' me face make ye uncomfortable?" She'd asked bluntly, and Fenna had struggled with the answer, as Friya continued. "Aye it make ye uncomfortable an' that's fine an' well. 'owever are ye more comfortable lettin' feelin's die over something t'at 'might' 'appen, an' more than likely doesn't? Cause I wasn't, so nae its all yours Fenna. Me 'eart, yer choice. I've stated clearly where I stand, an' what I'm after. It nary means our friendship ends if'n ye says no." she told Fenna more softly now, and Fenna could see the pain in her face, not from the kiss being halted, but from feeling pushed away, from being verbally distilled to being nothing but a Magister, though that hadn't been Fenna's intent, the dwarf realized her reaction came off as such.

       "I nary meant it like that m'love, I just..." Fenna began, but Friya stopped her, as she started moving towards the door. 

       "I know exactly what ye meant, Fenna. Wit' every fibre o' me I know. So take some time, 'owever much ye wants. I knows there is a lot o' other factors too. Our expected lifespans fer one, our unique history fer another. I wants ye to know t'at history nae effect this decision. I've always been attracted ta women, nary men, an' this is adult Friya's choice, nae such feelings developed when I was young. Only t'e last two years. But t'at other thing....Templar and Magister..." Friya paused in the door. "I understand. Be why it took me so long. Nae ye need to decide fer yourself. I guess I'd hoped ye 'ad been battlin' wit' it as long as me, an' were ready ta make a choice."

      Fenna was pulled free from her thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat beside her. Sitting with her, there in a chair by the fire, was Fredwick. He smiled up at her, warming his hands, having his own stew and plate as well as a drink. The halfman stretched his fingers, enjoying the fire. "Star for your thoughts?" He asked, flipping a copper coin between his fingers.

      Fenna didn't know why, but she sighed, flashing a brief smile, accepting the gesture. But she broke. She hadn't even finished a single pint. But something inside her broke a bit. She didn't cry or truly weep, but tears and struggle were on her face. She spent almost the next hour, maybe more in fact, dictating to Fredwick the background between herself and Friya, and the events of the recent two years, and the confessional and kiss, all of it. She was very detailed. She explained her doubts, her struggle, why she just didn't know what to do. At the end she sighed, slumping in the chair, having finished the stew between bits of the story, nursing the last of her ale.

      Fredwick let it all sit for a few moments, then spoke. "Do you love her?" the halfman asked softly.

      "Aye, the blazes do ye think I was just talkin' 'bout?" Fenna replied, an edge of frustration to her words. 

      Fredwick shook his head, grinning. "I did not ask for an essay. I asked a yes or no question. Do you love her?"

       Fenna nodded slowly, not really sure what point the halfman was making. He leaned back and chuckled. "We live in a world full of danger. A world where nightmares can become reality, and death oft visits brutally and unexpectedly, and seemingly unfairly. We live in a world of harsh gods, strict structure, yet open minds, and a world of science and magick, both always pushing the limits, both extremely dangerous. We live in a world of monsters, goblins and wild beasts. I would humbly suggest by being born in such a world and in such a time, and ending up on the roads you both have, you both already knew what you signed up for. That doesn't mean you can't have love, nor does it mean you are undeserving." Fredwick sipped his own ale, sighing as he patted his belly. "Existence is struggle with joy found in successes, but it is fleeting except in a few select and blessed circumstances. A union or partnership, brotherhood, sisterhood, romance, is one of those that keeps on giving. Some might say it helps prolong life, helps give a strong exterior will that sometimes will help you dig deeper than you ever thought you could. I cannot say for sure, but there might be wisdom to such ideals." 

       Fredwick took another sip of his ale, letting her mind catch up a bit, process not just his words, but the clarity he hoped he weaved to the words behind his words, and then continued, "You are holding back for your own selfishness I suspect. Because you do not trust your own oaths. Otherwise you would have no reason to. If you love her and reciprocate her advances or not, it won't change whether or not you will struggle with what would need to be done should such an eventuality become necessary." Fredwick locked eyes with her, seeming to peel her away with his gaze, baring her raw soul out where it couldn't hide. "So tell me what exactly do you think not reciprocating accomplishes. She did not ask you to give up your oath, and I assure you in some weird way that is actually something she very much hopes you uphold should it be necessary. If Friya is as good a person as you think she is, then she'd rather trust you over anyone else with such a task. So the question is, are you willing to risk such a thing? It would not be selfish to say no, given you'll also likely outlive and bury her when you are still quite young even if she lives to be an old woman. After all human versus dwarf, you don't really measure lifespans the same. However it would be selfish to say no without being honest as to the reasons. If you care for her as much as it sounds you do, you should be honest with yourself so that you can be honest with her. Do with that what you will."

       Fenna leaned back, considering his words, as Fredwick continued, chuckling. "Look at the bunch of us, its quite the storybook cast, is it not? A love struck templar and magister, one too stubborn and unsure to act, the other forcing the issue, wishing clarity of their standing. A chemist with a shady and dark past, possibly even being hunted, definitely with a need to wash away some dark spots of her own past as best she can, trying to make amends however she can. Then of course me, a humble tale-weaver along for the ride, who finds himself at the center of some sort of odd mess. An eclectic collective if you will." Fredwick leaned forward, enjoying the warmth of the fire. "Eclectic Collective, I'll need to remember that one." he muttered, smiling to himself. He glanced to where Fenna had been sitting, about to ask her what she thought of it, only to see she'd left, and he caught sight of her making her way up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Friya heard the knocking, rising and stretching from her bed. She'd been resting all day, still feeling lingering fatigue from the fight, as well as some self doubts and fears after the events of the previous night. She draped the simple blanket around herself and answered the door "Ach what ye wan-" the words stuck in her throat as she saw Fenna. They stood for a moment, Friya not sure what was coming.

     Fenna was not sure either. She had come up the stairs immediately, but had stood out of the shared room, not willing to enter it, for almost a quarter of an hour, debating with herself internally. She thought she had settled on a course of action, though it had been a close fight, she thought she wasn't strong enough. However once that door opened and she saw Friya standing there, wrapped in a simple blanket, hair a mess, framing her face, Fredwick's words bounced around her skull, echoing, and the mortality tied to them struck her. It felt right, she realized in that moment, it felt right and there could be no one else it would feel as right with. Friya stood, confused, blinking, unsure why Fenna, whom was sharing the room with her, had knocked.

      Suddenly, Fenna grabbed her wrist, pulling her down gently, but with authority, wrapping her other hand behind Friya's head, and kissed her. Friya felt the passion, as they stumbled back into the room, Fenna managing to kick closed the door, lost in the moment, both choosing actions over words, though careful about their soreness and lingering injuries they would need to be, they ended up in the bed.....

      An hour later, with Fenna's head laying atop her chest, nestled amidst her breasts, her hand simply on her inner thigh, Friya kissed the top of her head. Fenna responded by rising, kissing her fully on the lips, tasting herself there as much as Friya would be doing the same on her own lips, and enjoying it greatly. After, as Fenna nestled back to where she had been, Friya spoke. "What changed?" she asked.

      Fenna sighed, chuckling. "Ach that blasted 'alfman an' 'is wordsmithin'. Definitely helped me, though weren't 'is business, he got me 'ere likely a few days early."

       Friya giggled, placing her other hand on Fenna's chest, cupping her breast, tracing her fingers over her torso, loving every touch of her skin. "'e got ye too, well I nae goin' say I'm disappointed. So do we need ta talk about it? Templar, Magister, all t'at? We can if ye wants, if'n it'll help ye."

       Fenna shook her head. "Ach nae!" she snarled, "I been trapped in that circle o' nonsense all day in me own 'ead. Ye love me?"

       "With all me 'eart an' soul. I don't call ye m'love or me 'eart fer nae reason. Those are yers, only yers." Friya replied with a soft whisper, kissing Fenna's neck.

       "Yer the same ta me. Me 'eart, m'love, lover an' all. So that's all that matter. Nae 'nough talk. We gots t'e night, fer on t'e morrow we likely able ta travel. So let's make t'e most o' it." Fenna told her, carefully sliding down under the blanket. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      It was bone-jarringly cold. Her skin was screaming, her bones aching, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Snow swirled all around her, blinding in every direction, as she trudged on, seeking shelter, people, a landmark, anything at all. Tuli knew she did not have much time left, the snow already well above her shins and piling higher quickly. She could feel her fingers failing, her toes already had lost feeling long ago. She couldn't breathe, so cold it was. But beyond all that there was the wind, the wind seeming to taunt her, gusting through what she could only guess were trees she couldn't see in the white out conditions, sounding almost like a creaking cackle. Perhaps that was the delirium setting in.

      Tuli trudged on, trying to push through. She was not dressed appropriately for this, and it showed, as she stumbled, but pushed herself back to her feet. Already after mere minutes, though it felt like hours, she could feel warmth in her body, though she had enough medicinal knowledge to know that this sensation was actually a lie. A falsehood that meant hypothermia was setting in. The brain fog and perhaps hallucinations would come soon enough. That gave her some small comfort, that she likely wouldn't realize she was going to freeze to death...at the end. Well she told herself it was small comfort, but in truth, adding to her problems was raw terror. She'd grown up always terrified of blizzards such as this, believing that horrifying and dangerous monsters, beasts beyond description, hunted during such snowstorms....

       Was that a branch snapping? It must have been the wind. But, no there was a soft grunting, something snorting? What was that shape just ahead of her, it looked like perhaps....a person! Tuli called out, as loud as she could, desperate, believing her prayers had been answered "Help, oh help me please. Warmth, shelter, I need to get out of the storm, please can you hel--" She choked back the words, a scream of terror mingling with the horrifying keening screech of whatever rose from its hunched position in the snow before her. Humanoid in shape, yet to tall, limbs to spindly, with moose like antlers and a blood drenched human-esque mouth, but far to large, with sharp tearing teeth. Its screech was horrifying, but even more horrifying was how fast it closed on her, in a flash its clawed hand ripping open her abdomen, laying her low. She screamed, and struggled, fruitlessly she knew, as the strange creature hunched over her, feasting, pinning her struggling form down, ripping at her slowly leaking insides, lapping at her lifeblood like a thirst driven hound.......As darkness began to claim her, the cackling grew louder and louder, as her terrified screams rang out over and over.......

      "Tuli! Tuli, you must wake up, darling Tuli, tis but a nightmare, a bad dream, please snap out of it, come, wake up!" Fredwick shook her, his concern growing for the sleeping yet shrieking gnome woman. Her body convulsed, her abdomen was wet, thin lines of blood, bare, but showing, three of them, visible. Her body was frigid, like touching ice, and almost all color had drained from her face. Fredwick swore, moving to the door of her room, which he'd picked the lock of when he'd heard her screaming, and went up the hall as fast as he could, pounding on Friya and Fenna's door. "Friya, damn it magister, open the blasted door, I think she's dying!!!"

       The door opened a crack, Friya peering out, clearly roused from slumber, and likely naked. "Throw some damn clothes on and get to Tulint's room now, are you deaf, do you not hear the screaming, I can't wake her, this is no ordinary nightmare. I don't know what's happening, but she's bleeding! Its like something clawed her stomach. Come quickly, both of you if your in there!" Other patrons of the inn were waking, confused and dazed, and a few other doors were opening. Fredwick ran by them, ignoring or swearing at those whom attempted to stop him or otherwise confront or bother him about the screaming.

       Back in Tulint's room, it was colder than it had been when he'd left. He saw frost forming inside the window, on the inside of the glass. The candle he'd lit had gone out and the wick wasn't even smoking. She was pale, showing slight blue tinges to her lips and fingers, still breathing, still weakly screaming. "Tuli you need to wake up damn it, you need to wake up!" he yelled in frustration, shaking her, trying desperately to get her to come awake, but to seemingly no avail.

       Friya tried to shake the sleep and, other cobwebs from her mind, a foolish half smile on her face as she stared across the room at her newfound lover and best friend, admiring the sway of her hips as she moved about the room swiftly, collecting her garments. Fenna was already all focus, as she always would be, such was her loyalty, another trait well enjoyed by Friya. However that moment of glazed peace lasted about as long as it took the magister to fully awaken, and to touch her connection to the arcane, at which point she recoiled in abject horror, leaning against the wall of the room. She could touch manna and weave spells if she must, but even from here she'd felt it. Pure and abject fear, terror on a scale immeasurable. She could taste it, an indescribable flavor. Her brief unprepared moment where it had touched her, whatever it was, had shown visions she would never be able to scrub from her mind, things so horrifying, ideas so heinous she instinctually compartmentalized the images, particularly involving Fenna, and purged them via mental exercises that had been part of her training as a magister, knowing these ideas and 'fears' whilst perhaps true to her subconscious, were imagery planted in her consciousness from an exterior source. She moved swiftly, knowing she had limited time, but also swiftly recognizing armor would not be necessary or helpful. "Throw on yer tunic an' greaves m'love, nay more, an' grab yer shield and blade. Armor nae 'elp, but we may need steel, an' likely need a bit o' Sir Kartheart's 'elp!" Friya told Fenna briskly, whilst taking her own advice and merely throwing on a simple tunic and leggings, not even bothering with her greaves over top. She grabbed her hatchet and targe, after making sure she had her amulet in place, feeling the benefit of its focus immediately, helping her dull the crackling of glass and the whispers in from whatever was nearby in the Aether.

      Once they were in the room, Friya moved swiftly to Fredwick, pulling him loose of Tuli. "Ach we nae 'ave time ta explain. Get yerself down ta the kitchens. I needs salt, oil an' a dram o' whiskey, strongest they got. Go, nae!" she ordered. Fredwick didn't hesitate, hearing the urgency in the magister's voice. Fenna stood ready, confused, in the doorway. Friya turned to her. "Its cold, bitter cold, but we nae worried 'bout that. Keep yer mind clear, focus on prayer, keep mutterin' them words m'love. Take that sword o' yours, and I needs ye ta spill a drop or three of yer blood and etch a wardin' totem in the inside face of this door. Do it swiftly, but as quiet as ye can, an' once Fredwick is back, ye close an' lock t'at door, an' let naught a thing leave t'is room. Nae until its safe."

       Fenna started doing as she was bid, but called back to Friya, noting her wording. "'Til its safe?' Yer referrin' ta why me 'oly symbol be on fire w'en I can see's me breath in t'is room, nae isn't ye?" She glanced over to see Friya nod, confirming without speaking what the situation was. "Of course, a tusk-be-damned 'orror, what's it goin' ta be t'is time?" she muttered, but continued on the task that she'd been bid to do. Tulint had shown herself to be a good person, just in a terrible situation and honestly Fenna liked the little gnome woman, despite her overbearing nature sometimes when it came to medicine. She glanced  to the bed again, seeing that the woman's color was really bad now, even as Friya got her blankets back over her and was rubbing her extremities, trying to warm them, at least a little bit. "'Ang tough, wee lass. We'll figure t'is out an' get ye awake an' warm again. Just nary die, ye 'ears me." She muttered, half as much a prayer, as she was gripping her holy symbol, as it was a plea.

       Fredwick was quick, thankfully so, only taking perhaps three or four minutes, and he came back with a pot full of oil, a small pouch full of salt and a full bottle of whiskey, balancing them like some kind of juggler. As soon as he was in the room, Fenna did as she was bid, finishing the warding prayer quietly, pushing closed the door that was now etched with a sealing symbol from her steel and her blood, her fervor and faith. She latched the door, taking up vigil, blade and shield raised, at the ready. The cold room calmed some, the wind becoming a breeze, but the temperature continued to drop. Fredwick carefully placed the various goods on the floor by the bedside and looked from Friya to Fenna and then back to Friya. "Alright now what?" he asked, already beginning to shiver.

      Friya got to work swiftly, acknowledging Fredwick as she did. "Ach I misjudged 'er situation when she told us o' t'e 'air an' blood." She explained, whilst working swiftly. "I nae lied, normally doin' any sort o' spell-work ta 'arm someone from them kind o' distances, from distances where I nae would feel it, barring a magister o' t'e Onyx, would likely be lethal ta t'e mage. 'Owever I nary accounted fer dream-stridin' which I should o' given Voidstone were involved in all this." Friya first poured the oil out carefully, creating a circle of sorts, then used the salt, trickling it from the pouch to create lines and symbols within the oil circle around Tuli's bed. She then stepped carefully out of the circle, taking the whiskey. She moved to Fenna, whom tensed up, clearly not willing to let her through the door. Friya smiled, in spite of the situation, pleased to see her act so, as she should and as her oath demanded. "I nae be tryin' ta leave lover." she said softly. "I need some more blood, an' I needs ye to dip yer 'oly symbol in this bottle. Five drops will do."

      Fenna didn't hesitate, but did look up at Friya, locking eyes with her, and could see both confidence and doubt, an odd thing, within those amber, no topaz now, slowly gaining their glow. "Ach nae m'heart what ye plannin'? Fenna asked, finishing the task she had been bid to do.

       Friya did not answer immediately, instead first opening her own palm with a small ritual knife she kept sheathed in the back of her shield, letting five drops of her own blood, alive with Domhan, fall into the bottle. Shaking and swirling the liquid, she muttered an incantation, a dangerous one that was only to be used in the most dire of circumstances, whilst lowering her own pendant, the humming and glowing topaz shard, into the bottle. The whiskey shifted color, thinning and then thickening, as the alcohol was consumed by the alchemical process, being changed and altered. Once she was sure she'd done it right, and it was finished, Friya turned to Fenna, a determined glint in her eyes, despite the obvious doubts hidden just behind it. "It nae be far off  an exorcism, though nary quite t'at." she answered simply. "I'll explain better after, fer nae, be ready. When it appears, if t'is works, we nae will 'ave long. Fenna, m'love, ye keep t'at door closed, ye hold it wit' yer life. Fredwick, just keep out o' t'e way, ye nary be armed, I nae sure 'ow much ye can help."

      Fredwick, leaning back against the far wall of the room, pan-pipes in hand, spoke up. "I may not be armed, but I've a few tricks, so I might be able to help. However I'll do my best to stay out of the way. Hurry though, she's getting worse," he spoke, concern cracking his voice and shattering his performer's bravado. 

      Friya nodded, taking a deep breath. "Steel yer minds too, both o' ye. T'is thing will seek ta read yer thoughts, and if ye 'ave any fears present an' foremost in yer mind, that's what it'll show ye, its visage will assault yer mind that way. 'Opefully tis just a 'orror an' nae anything more powerful, would explain why it can only attack 'er when she sleeps." Without anymore ceremony, Friya moved to the bed. Carefully and slowly she coaxed the sleeping and unconscious gnome to drink the concoction, a delicate process, but a necessary one. Color began to return to her pallor, her lips faded from blue tinged to simply white, and Friya felt her body warming but a little. She also felt the force, the mix of holy blood, and manna creating a building pressure within Tuli's essence in the Aether, a panicked thrumming of sorts. The gnome's aura became visible on the Material realm, she heard Fenna and Fredwick both audibly gasp seeing her form leaking out streaks of this cacophony of indescribable colors, all whilst she began to be surrounded in a radiance and a topaz glow. Every drop seemed to help, but Friya kept herself attuned to the Aether, waiting for the sign she knew was coming.

       Eventually, almost halfway through the bottle, the sound came, as the oil and salt began to burn, small iridescent flames flickering to life, their colors seeming every but also none, a cacophony of madness contained in fire. No smoke did these flames produce, nor any heat, they seemed entirely unnatural. She heard the gibbering voice, brutal, indescribable, madness given vocalization. She sensed its prodding and poking at her mind, though it was thankfully not so strong as to start rummaging through her deeper thoughts and subconscious, she was able to wall it off with focus, keeping her mind on but simple and singular thoughts and tasks, effectively walling off its access. Its frustration and discomfort were both audible in the tone, and as the voice moved beyond the Aether, she called out a warning to her companions. "Be ready, it's comin'!"

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      Agatha recoiled, the hag hissing as she felt the interference, tasted loam and soil in her mouth, spitting furiously though there was naught but spittle. The piece of raw voidstone was draining swiftly, she knew she couldn't hold the connection and keep the bound creature safe from this distance for any real length of time, even with the aid of her sisters. The hair and blood were burning too, she realized, the acrid and rancid scent coming to her nostrils, but before she could react, they were gone, burned away. In that moment, the hag made a decision, cursing under her breath at the loss of such sustenance, but knowing it was the only proper choice. "Nettles, Vieri, release your grips, my sisters, do it now." she snarled, breaking her own connections to the spell, and to the exquisite palette of their victim's fear. Her sisters were similarly impacted and this time no looks were exchanged, no edge of defiance offered, as they both severed the tie immediately.

      Agatha threw the bowl that had contained the hair and blood of their victim across their sanctuary with such force the copper bowl's edge imbedded itself almost an inch into the wall. "How Magisters vex me so, calling our magicks heinous and foul, yet when they cannot match our power with their pathetic 'legal' forms of practice, they happily dabble on our side of the fence." she hissed. However she regained some of her composure swiftly. "But we have no need to be so worked up, Illvenia will see to them I'm sure. Now that the horror's leash is off, well I do not expect it to be happy." she said, cackling. "Even now I can feel it, and the creature surges, shrugging off its summoning bonds, hungry to sow terror and fear."

      The room darkened, even as the temperature reversed but a little, the candles and the flickering flames of the Extraction Warding seeming to have their light swallowed, though the flames kept burning. The breeze picked up but though no longer as cold, everyone had goosebumps, their skin crawled. Friya readied herself, though she realized fighting inside a wooden structure, on its second floor, was far from ideal for her. However they'd not the time to move Tuli, nor had Friya been sure it was safe to do so. The room got darker still, as whispers and bristling noises filled the edges of their senses, the kind of noises that would make anyone nervous when walking about the wilderness in the dark. The whispers were subtle, but bits and pieces of the noises sounded less like whispers and more guttural, gibbering. Some of it sounded like something rending flesh and bone. Shadows, darker spots in the poorly lit space, began to flit and form, shapes you could only catch sight of out of your periphery for but a split second.

      Fredwick's eyes and head were working overtime, trying as he might to keep calm, the halfman was definitely noticeably uncomfortable. Friya felt it too, but she gritted her teeth, as she felt the presence beginning to form, trying to stay hidden, trying to avoid manifesting physically. Using the only bit of legal daemonology she'd been taught, Friya focused, drawing in Domhan, letting it flow through her and fill the space within the extraction warding as she chanted. She felt the entity resist, she felt it lash out against her, saw visions of fears she knew well. Fenna, bleeding to death in her arms, unable to save her. Magick running wild in her grip, losing herself to possession. The simple fears, which boded well, and in spite of some of these terrifying images that felt all to real, she pressed on feeling better, not worse, with this revelation. Whatever it was, it was merely a Illreen, the lowest class of entity of its kind, a creature from Mount Terror, under the dominion of Timidus, Emperor of Fear. She chanted with more strength to her words, letting her manna flow, tightening her focus as she spoke the chants of extraction in the tongue of the earth, demanding the entity manifest itself.

      Fredwick saw it first, the shadows along the floor collecting, like water running down a slope or building, bit by bit. Slowly a shape, darker than the darkness of the room began to manifest to the halfman, his eyes going wide, his face a little pale, as the shape and figure of a man from his past came into view, licking a knife blade. He was dressed in dark finery, with silver hair, pointed ears and golden eyes. An elven noble, someone whom Fredwick had greatly upset and dishonored when he had cuckolded his wife six years previous in Kelethan. He'd nearly killed Fredwick, and though the scars had been few on the physical side, the healer he'd paid had been well worth the coin, Fredwick remembered keenly that curved knife, and the day and a half tied to a chair in the basement he'd experienced. He also remembered watching him kill Eliys. However he was dead, Fredwick had watched him die, had arranged for poisoned wine at his favorite drinking house but half a year later. A better death than he had deserved. Now though his knees were weak, his face pale, as he pushed himself back against the wall. "You....it can't be you, you're dead, I watched you die you bastard." Fredwick spoke, terror in his voice, eyes wide, shaking his head.

      The elf laughed, a low rasping sound, but did not speak, advancing fast, and Fredwick felt the steel of the knife bite him, slashing him deep, but precisely, just enough to draw blood and begin to cut muscle, but not enough to be crippling or the like. Two swift blows like this, one to the right arm and shoulder, another to the left side of the face had the halfman falling to the floor.

      Fenna heard the rasping, but had to blink, confused, for she couldn't see anything. "Ach w'at t'e blazes, Friya what's 'appenin'?" Fenna called out, unsure what she needed to do, watching a third line of blood, this one across his torso, slicing through his thin silk tunic, appear on Fredwick, as he cried out in pain, fear obvious in his voice.

      Friya blocked out Fenna, having no choice. She knew what the creature was doing, trying to stop her from finishing the rite, but she had to, and she couldn't rush. The last two sentences felt like they dragged on for eternity, as she heard Fredwick call out for aid again. She felt a surge of pride in the little halfman as despite his panic and obvious pain, he heard Fenna move as if to step to him, but he remembered Friya's words and called out through his terror, "No Fenna, don't! Remember what Friya told you!" 

      She finally finished the rite, feeling the entity that was all around them being drawn into one location in the center of the room, forcibly, against its will. Fredwick was on the floor, bleeding from nearly a dozen cuts, but conscious, just in agony. Friya turned her topaz eyes to the swirling mass of shadow and darkness taking shape, to her at least, as Fenna's broken and shattered corpse. The image showed signs of burns and magickal rending, as it raised a shattered arm, rasping to her, "You did this to me, your lover. I trusted you, you did this. It is all your fault!"

      Friya raised her targe, choking her emotions back, keeping her connection open, trying to remind herself of the lie, taking the assault, head on, her eyes looking at Fenna. Her Fenna, the dwarven templar she loved, the loyal companion whom trusted her. Even now, though she clearly wanted to, Fenna stood fast at the door. Friya pushed forward with her targe, finding strength in that, and anger, as she remembered what this creature was. "Ye dare ta wear 'er visage, in front o' me, ye dare ta try and poison me thoughts." Her shield arm cracked forward, the spike glowing as she funneled manna through her shield and weapons, and this found purchase even in this semi-gaseous entity the magick rending into it like a knife through butter. Her handaxe was not far behind, however the keening it let out from the targe piercing it physically threw Friya back, sending her sprawling and sliding across the floor on the far side of the room.

      Fenna watched the two forms clash, seeming to both look like Friya at first, which confused her. She stood her ground, despite desperately thinking she should rush forward to help when she saw one of them go flying. However she held her ground. Friya, the one still standing turned to look at her, even as Fredwick screamed, terrified, scrambling to his feet despite the blood. "Snake, oh no, no no no, I hate snakes!" he shrieked, leaping back, his pan-pipes still useless, but in his hand.

       Friya approached Fenna then and it was her, though she seemed...angry. She was humming with topaz manna, her axe seeming to have bits of soil and stone dropping and flaking off of it. She smiled sweetly at Fenna however the dwarf couldn't shake the sensation and feeling something wasn't right. "M'love, we needs ta get t'e wee one medical attention an' out o' this space. He's a wreck, an' t'e threat be over, see light comin' back already." Her words were true, despite Fenna blinking, unsure what she was seeing. Fredwick was curled up against the wall, shaking, bleeding, clearly needing aid. Friya, the one that had been thrown, was...was gone. She blinked twice, shaking her head. That didn't make any sense at all.

       "'Old on nae, love." Fenna said, shaking her head, keeping her shield and blade raised. "T'at were a Voidlin' aye? Why nary any o' t'e blasted glass shatterin', reality twistin' like a bad 'angover nonsense. Why isn't Tuli awake. Why he still be cowerin' like a damned child who just 'eard a ghost story?" Fenna couldn't shake the feeling something about this wasn't right, something was off. Yes the light was returning to the space, yes Tuli's skin was regaining some amount of its pallor, but the gnome hadn't moved or woken up. Something in her mind told her this wasn't right.

      Fenna watched, almost confused, as Friya stepped forward, and raised the axe. She felt paralyzed for a moment, as Friya, still smiling, spoke "Damned Templars, yer all the same. Ye nae thought I actually 'ad feelin's fer ye, I 'ope? Ye damned fool, yer kind are all the same. Better off dead." All this was said in the same cheery, soft, loving voice as the previous words out of her mouth.

      Fenna stepped right back against the door, her eyes narrowing, as she realized what was going on, felt the presence trying to hide amongst her thoughts. She focused on the fears it was interacting with, focusing on Friya, picturing her almost exactly. Her axe hand was raised, and yet....there was a shift as Fenna watched Friya, no not Friya, something daring to wear her visage, step in to strike her. The axe raised high...it its right hand. Fenna raised her shield, deflecting the blow, snarling in anger at the shocked creature. "Ye nary scare me wit' simple illusion, ye bastard. Friya be left-handed! Blood and stone, Iron and bone!" she roared, as she pressed forward, using her shield to create space, before thrusting her now silvery blade, crackling with holy energy, through the center of the visage, rupturing out its back. Fenna pushed in close, insuring the dying and fading entity would hear her last words before the Void clawed it all the way back. "Ye not worthy o' 'er image, damn beast, nae will ye ever be. Get ye back ta t'e nightmare ye came from, where ye belongs." She viciously twisted and ripped loose her blade from the fading entity before it was entirely incorporeal, drawing a bit of mild satisfaction from the motion. 

      Much to her relief, then came what she'd expect. The twisting in her stomach, the sound and sight of seeing reality as if through a cracked looking glass ever so briefly, before things normalized. She saw Fredwick leaning back, coherent and in great discomfort, but laughing, pointing to the bed, a wide smile on his face despite his pained grimace. "It worked, it worked, she's waking up!"

      Fenna glanced at the gnomish woman even as she started striding across the room to where Friya lay, and was pleased to see that indeed, as the room normalized in temperature, Tuli was starting to come awake. Fenna turned her gaze to Friya, noting she was moving, thank the Ascended, but she was not rising, yet. Judging by the blood on the floor and the look of her shoulder, Fenna guessed she'd torn the stitches open but outside of that hopefully she wasn't to badly hurt. Friya saw Fenna coming over to her, as she managed to push herself, uncomfortably, into a sort of sitting position. "I felt it leave, good work m'love. Guess I needs more stitches in this damned shoulder." She grunted as she got herself fully into a sitting position, back up against far wall of the room, facing the door, and as Fenna threw her arms around her, the dwarf having discarded both blade and shield. Friya grunted and grimaced a bit, but smiled all the same, despite the discomfort in her shoulder, as she did her best to reciprocate with a shield strapped to her right arm, letting her axe simply lie beside her.  

        Agatha hissed, feeling the sudden tug and the sudden and rapid drain on the 'heart' of her Voidling servant. She swiftly withdrew it from within her shawl, watching bits of it drain of color, coming apart as grey powder in her hands. Baring her teeth, she threw the totem aside, smashing a few glass beakers and jars, furious, as she also caught a slight hint of smells she knew well. That of burning hair and burning blood, and she moved to the small blackened glass bowl that was set up within a seer's pentacle, atop a small table. She watched, her mood darkening at the lass of such exquisite fear and panic, as the last of the hair and blood burned away. Her sisters, likely having felt the last pulses of the Voidstone 'heart' as it faded into naught but harmless mineral dust, barged into the spell room. "Sister, what has happened?" Nettles asked, her voice sickly sweet, almost taunting, for of course she knew, they both did.

      Vieri, cackling, added, "Yes sister dearest, we felt something, is our nightmare pet alright, or did some part of your plan go awry." tauntingly. Naturally they would both enjoy this show of weakness, and it would embolden them. As it should, however Agatha had no intention of letting them forget whom was the most powerful among them. The cackles and giggles suddenly shifted, becoming yelps and shouts of pain and discomfort, as Agatha ate a bit of the Void-Dust she carried about her person, and with her prowess in the dark arts, forcibly inflicted sensations upon her sisters, those of a thousand thousand biting ants crawling and biting upon their flesh. Vieri leapt up and down, Nettles, fell to the floor, rolling around, trying to make it stop. The spell was so empowered by the Void dust that not only did they show sore and red spots swiftly all over, but a few even started bleeding. "Mercy sister, mercy, we were only poking a bit of fun." pleaded Vieri as she leapt, Nettles making the same plea in tandem.

      Agatha let them both stew for a few moments longer before releasing her grip on the spell-form, freeing them from the forced sensations. "Leave me, go about other business" she snarled, making clear from her biting tone that it was no request and that any delay would result in further punishment. Nettles and Vieri wasted no time fleeing the room, giving Agatha privacy once again within their altar and ritual space. She moved to the shelf she'd struck and damaged in her fit, cursing her own aggressive behavior. However she did not clean the mess, deciding she would put her sisters, particularly Vieri, to work on such a menial task as further proper punishment later. For now though she moved to a well padded chair, taking a seat, as her mind and eyes wandered the space and its various shelves, perusing the titles of the tomes and texts kept on each. It was an unfortunate twist of fate, whatever had happened to her pet dream-stalker, however it was a circumstance she had considered might occur. After all, she would have been a fool not to, given this gnome was traveling with a templar and a magister. No, best not to try anything else with that mess, and to instead perhaps begin perusing studies and methods that might help her and her sisters simply remove the necessity of trade and commerce with Vorgi from the equation of getting the Void-dust they valued so highly.

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      Tuli felt the cold again, as her vision began to come back, as did her sanity and senses. Slowly at first everything began to ache less, and to come back into focus. Blood flow returned to her extremities, shapes, structure, the feeling of snow at her back becoming the simple bed and cot instead. She gasped, blinking as she came back to reality, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off her chest. It took Tuli a moment to note her surroundings beyond her immediate relief that she was awake, alive, that the nightmare was over. She kept looking at her hands, her feet, believing surely she had to have extreme frostbite, unable to fully shake the biting cold, and the memory of the sensation, even as she realized it had been yet another nightmare. She blinked some more, her whole body aching as she rose into a sitting position. As her vision cleared and came fulling into focus, she gasped at the sight within her lodgings.

       Surrounded by splatters of his own blood across from the cot in a kneeling position, but rising, his tunic in tatters, was Fredwick. He smiled weakly, getting to one foot, before thinking better of it, and falling back to sit against the wall. Despite the obvious pain and discomfort on his face he smiled at her. "Its good to see you awake Tulint, you gave us quite a fright." He said weakly, gesturing to the room. "Your nightmares pack quite a punch."

      She took in the rest of the room, seeing Friya to the left of her bed, her shoulder bleeding profusely, the stitches having been torn, and the floor boards in a spot near the door on the other side of the room blackened, almost as if rotting. She could smell blood, oil, smoke, and saw the burned floorboards all around the bed. With feeling in her extremities, she rose from the bed, moving to her medicine bag, readying to work on her companions as she inquired as to what had occurred. "I was having another horrible nightmare, but it ended and I did not awaken immediately. I heard your voices, I heard some other sounds and whispers. Then it was darkness, and confusion for a time and then I woke up....to all this. What happened here?

      Friya sat up straighter, waiting for Tuli to come over to her, as Fredwick was clearly in worse shape, having five nasty gashes that needed cleaning and stitching, and she provided Tuli with a full explanation of the events and her own hazarded guess of the surrounding context. Fenna, once Friya had convinced her she was fine, had left to answer the door, where the innkeeper was waiting indignant, demanding explanation for all the noise waking other guests. So Fenna had taken a walk with the man to talk him down, perhaps pull a bit of authority, and at Friya's insistence, to go by their room and see the man given a bit of coin as an apology.  By the time Friya was done explaining the whole thing to the best of her ability, Tuli was over by her side, working on re-stitching her shoulder. Tuli was silent for a time but eventually she spoke softly. "It would have killed me wouldn't it?" she inquired, locking eyes with Friya.

      "Aye lass, that it would 'ave. But ye nae need ta worry 'bout it nae. With the summonin' broken, t'e components will 'ave been consumed. Yer blood an' 'air among them, I'd imagine. Yer free nae." Friya winced a little as the last few stitches were tied in expertly by Tuli, along the collarbone. "Ye'll also get a better sleep next time ye rests yer head, which I be sure ye'll be appreciatin'."

      Tuli felt tears in her eyes, but choked them back, smiling at Friya. "Thank you." she said, a smile on her face. "I can never repay you, but thank you, all of you."

      Fenna's voice rang out, as she returned, closing the door. "That innkeeper drive a 'ard bargain, but a small 'andful o' coins later we nae gettin' turned out on the streets. So we can get a wee bit more sleep, I thinkin' we could all use it." she announced, and she moved over by Fredwick, helping the halfman to his feet. 

       "You are right about that, dearest Fenna." he said, chuckling dryly. "I feel like I could sleep for a week." He cleared his throat, looking up and getting Tuli's attention then, locking eyes with her. "You owe us nothing, Tulint. We've not known each other long, but the group of us have been through a lot, and likely more to come. Perhaps you'll stay, perhaps not, but I count you as a friend. Friends don't let their friends get killed by nightmares inflicted by some sort of foul sorcery if they can help it. So we were glad to help."

       "Aye, lass, nary be speakin' o' debts, ye 'ad enough o' that with t'e blasted Vorgi. Ye owes us naught, If'n this be where we part ways, so be it, go with peace an' thanks fer yer company, skills, and friendship. Yer free nae, an' yer life and choices are yer own." Fenna agreed, smiling. "So get ye some more rest. I thinks we'll stay 'nother day an' night 'ere, we could use it after this, an' then meself and Friya will travel back to Vorgistal. We 'ave business ta settle an' a job ta do there clearly. 'owever ye sleep on it, yerself an' the 'alfman. Ye owes us nary a thing, yer path is yer own. But if'n ye wish, yer company is welcome." she said, somewhat gruffly, but with a smile on her face, as she and Friya left the room, leaving Tuli alone with her thoughts.

       The gnome returned to bed, after staring out the window of the room for a few minutes, considering her lot in life. Taking in the snow covered scenery below her, what she could see of it in the dark, with the flickering street lanterns. Her newfound freedom, tempting and yet, the more she thought about leaving behind her new found friends the less tempting it was. She would sleep on it, she decided, though even as she promised that to herself, she had an inkling of the decision she'd make come morning.